


The Saga Begins

by moonblooch



Series: Hits off the Cosmic Deck [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, based loosely around the time of the sequel trilogy, dubious usage of star wars canon slang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 05:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonblooch/pseuds/moonblooch
Summary: Fjord, Jester and Beau crash land on the planet of Trostenwald and get a whole crew for the price of one mechanic.





	The Saga Begins

**Author's Note:**

> This was based very loosely on this post but veered wildly off in a different direction to the point where I wasn't sure that gifting it would make sense. But if either of the contributors to said post are reading this, please feel free to consider it as such.
> 
> I do not own any of the characters or concepts which appear within this fic, I'm sure that I don't need to tell any of you this but please support the actual properties that inspired it (Critical Role and Star Wars).
> 
> The title is from Weird Al Yankovic's "The Saga Begins", which I also don't own, and I'm sure that you'll already be familiar with, but if not go check that out as well.

“So Fjord, what exactly are we looking for?” Jester asked.

They were stood in the doorway of a small cantina on Trostenwald, surveying the scattered patrons. The place was fairly empty, though the breakfast rush would likely end that soon; if they could get in and out before that happened.

“Well Jester, I was thinking we need someone to repair our ship.”

She nodded, eyes cast down. “I’m really, really sorry about the ship Fjord.”              

The image of the ground rushing up to meet them flashed through Fjord’s mind.

“It’s fine Jess, I’ve seen worse landings than that. Besides, I’m sure Beau’ll have everything upright by the time we’re back.”

They walked to the counter, where a harried looking human was wiping down every surface with all of the enthusiasm of someone about to finish her shift. She paused, looking up as they approached.

“How can I help you dears? What can I get you?”

“Just some rations for now I’m afraid.” Fjord replied, swinging himself onto a stool. “And some information about the area if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course, I’ll sort your food first; you look like you’ve had a hell of a jump to get here.”

Once more Fjord recalled his scream as they shot through the atmosphere.

“You could certainly say that. Speaking of,” he leaded forward, “you wouldn’t happen to know any decent mechanics would you?”

“Rough landing huh? We get plenty of those round here.” She said sliding a ration cube to each of them. “That’ll be five credits love.”

Fjord handed held out a credit chip and she scanned it with a handheld which was probably older than she was.

“As for your mechanic, well, you didn’t hear it from me,” she whispered, leaning in, “but that man in the corner might be your best shot. He’s an offworlder, not guild affiliated or anything; that’s why I’m not telling you this, but I’ve heard that he’s good and doesn’t ask questions. People have been singing his praises since he got here.”

Fjord followed her minute gesture to the corner-booth, where a scruffy looking man was hunched over a mug of caf. He had a lolth-cat sat on the bench next to him which seemed to be doing its best to stick its head into his mug, but had yet so succeed. He appeared to be conversing with someone, out of view from their angle.

“Are you sure?” Jester asked, a little louder than would have been ideal. “He looks like a slythmonger or something.”

“Sure as those tails on your head miss; he fixed the caf-dispenser just this morning. It used to make this awful screeching noise. I don’t know what you’ve got that needs fixing but I’m pretty sure I heard him talking to an Azumel about an old Hunter last night and he seemed to know his stuff.”

Fjord found himself nodding.

“Do you know what his rate is?”

She gave a light shrug.

“He just asked for two decent breakfasts when he fixed the caf machine for me, you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

“Maybe we could take some food, you know, to get him to talk to us?” Jester suggested. Turning back to the human she asked, “Hey, do you have any feen?”

“I’m afraid not miss, but I’ve got a sack of mallow powder out back that I’ve been trying to shift for ages if you’re after something sweet. It’s yours for ten credits.”

“Done!” Jester replied, brandishing her credit chip. Her freshly forged credit chip, if Fjord recognised it. He held his breath as the scanner ran over it, but seemed to detect nothing amiss.

“Alright then miss, I’ll just go get that for you. If anyone comes in could you let them know I won’t be long?”

At Jester’s nod she slipped through a door behind the bar. Fjord placed a light hand on Jester’s shoulder.

“I’m going to go talk to this guy, alright? Come over when you’ve got the mallow powder.”

Jester nodded again, sending him off with a wave. As Fjord approached, the man at the table seemed to tense up, curling in on himself with each step that Fjord took towards him.

“Excuse me,” Fjord began when he finally drew level with the booth, “d’you mind if I join you for a bit?”

“There are other tables.” Came a voice from the hunched figure sitting across from the man and his lolth-cat. They were small, smaller than most children even, although their voice fairly clearly demonstrated that this was not the case, and had a hood pulled over their face.

“ _Einfach da, Nott._ ” The man said, before turning to Fjord. “What is it you were wanting to talk about?”

“Ah, I apologise if I’m interrupting anything. I’m looking for a mechanic and I heard you might be able to help with that.”

“Maybe so, what is it that you need fixing?”

“Well, uh, my crew and I just landed and on our way back to realspace we encountered a few technical issues. I was hoping you’d maybe be able to take a look at them.”

“I would certainly be able to look at it, _aber_ I imagine you would want for me to fix it if there is something wrong.” The man stroked his chin. “I would not be unwilling to do this, but you will understand if I am _widerwillig_ to do this for a person who has not yet introduced themselves.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” Fjord held a hand out, “my name’s –”

“Fjord!” Jester called, staggering over to the booth almost entirely hidden behind the colossal sack of mallow powder she was holding. “Look at how much I got us! Do you think we can fit this in the kitchen?”

She set the sack down on the table with an audible thump.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, peering around the sack, “I really like your cat! Can I pet him? What’s he called? Oh, and what’s your name?”

A smile settled across the man’s features.

“You shouldn’t have asked him that.” The hunched figure on the other side of the table groused. “He barely talks about anything except that cat as it is.”

“Hush, you.” The man replied, scratching the lolth-cat behind its ears and turning to face Jester. “His name is _Frumpkin_ , and you can pet him as long as he allows it. My name is _Caleb Widogast_.”

He offered a hand to Jester, and that was when Fjord noticed that his arms were wrapped almost entirely in medical tape. A few of the pieces were trailing, having come unstuck, and it seemed to be stained in several places, though it was impossible to tell if these were from injuries or the sort of fluids which occurred in machinery.

“I’m Jester.” Jester replied, taking his hand with both of hers. “This is Fjord. Can you please help us with our ship?”

He seemed to consider for a moment.

“I will _ansehen_ it but if you would like for me to fix it then I shall need something in return.”

“What was that word?” Jester asked. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before, ans-han?”

“Oh.”

Caleb reached into one of the many pockets on his jacket, this one close to the lapel, and pulled out a tiny four-sided pyramid. Each side sported several flickering lights, and a seam along one edge was cracked open just widely enough to reveal the circuits inside. Caleb blew into this, then examined it for a moment. Seeming satisfied he returned it to its correct pocket.

“Malfunctioning translator, sorry.” He said, attention once more on Jester. “It is an old one,  I had to do a lot of the fine-tuning myself, so it can sort of, er, glitch I think is the best word, if I speak too fast or put stress on a word. I do speak Basic, but the dialect I learned to speak is unfortunately rather specific, a translator saves a lot of explaining you know?”

“Oh, I understand.” Jester replied, tapping her headband. “The translator in here makes my voice a little strange too sometimes. And there are some words it just doesn’t get, you know?”

“Absolutely, idioms are a _gottsverdamnt_ nightmare with this thing. As is cursing. What I was trying to say was that I would take a look at your ship and that we could take it from there, yes?”

“Well sure.” Fjord replied. “What’s your price?”

“That would depend on what needs fixing, but my friend and I,” Caleb gestured between himself and Nott, “need safe transport off this planet. It must be discreet. Can you provide that?”

“We can certainly try, where are you reckoning on going?”

“Anywhere in the outer rim.” Nott answered. “Further out than here at least, if not all the way out.”

“We can talk about the specifics when we are in a more private setting.” Caleb added. “But first, I would like to see this ship of yours.”

He drained the last of his caf and stood, still remarkably hunched over (though this was presumably not helped by the fact that the lolth-cat draped itself across his shoulders). Nott scrambled her way onto the table in order to help him strap some sort of pack to his back, allowing Fjord to get a closer look at her.

As widely travelled as he liked to assume that he was, Fjord had to admit that he had never seen anyone who looked quite like she did. Her hooded robe seemed to be covering her almost entirely, but what slivers of skin were visible were green (lighter than his own, but still very much green). Each hand appeared to have four fingers, unless she was wearing unusual gloves, and the lower half of her face was covered by a mask. If Fjord was pushed to guess, he would have said that it was a breath mask, but it was not visibly attached to any kind of tank. Over the top of this mask peered two amber eyes, constantly darting about the room as if she was expecting something to jump out at any second.

Once Nott had secured the final clasp, Caleb gathered up a second bag and slid out of the booth, offering Nott a hand to guide her down from the table.

“Well,” he said, looking to Fjord, “lead on.”

Jester kept up a constant stream of chatter on their way back to the ship, holding the sack of mallow powder in one arm and excitedly gesturing with the other. She stopped when Nott held up a hand.

“We’re being followed.” She hissed, turning slowly to face the direction they had just come from. Fjord followed her gaze, seeing two figures behind them and moving closer with purpose. He felt his hand twitch, almost involuntarily, but managed to keep it still. There was no need for that sort of scene yet.

Of the two figures approaching them, only one could have passed for human. Perhaps they were human, but something about their proportions, the slightly lumbering way that they were moving, suggested otherwise. The other was most likely chiss, though a lot closer to purple than average. They had been talking to their taller companion, but stopped abruptly when they noticed that Fjord was looking at them.

“Well hello there.” They called, slight accent betraying the use of a translator, as they strolled towards their group. “Not to be rude, but I believe that we overheard that you might be heading off planet soon. Got room for two more?”

Fjord fought the urge to close his hand again.

“We can pay.” The larger of the two said, not caring to elaborate.

“And we’re handy with most any weapon you can think up, if you need that sort of thing.” The chiss said, a smirk catching the corners of their mouth. “The name’s Mollymauk by the way, probably should have led with that. Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends, and the delightful lady beside me is Yasha.”

Yasha gave them a nod.

“I’m Jester, this is Fjord,” Jester answered before Fjord had a chance to come up with a halfway decent alias, “and this is Caleb and Nott.”

“Why do you need off-world so badly?” Nott asked. “We can’t take someone who’s got troopers after them.”

“I think I’ll decide who I allow on _my_ ship Nott.” Fjord interjected. “But is there anything we oughta know about before we consider your request?”

“We came here with the circus a few days ago, and we need off-world because one of the other performers seemed to think that the locals wouldn’t notice if he ate someone.” Yasha said, in a voice flatter than the statement truly deserved.

“You were travelling with cannibals?” Caleb asked, slowly starting to walk again. Fjord followed suit, noticing Jester and Nott do the same out of the corner of his eye.

Mollymauk shrugged as Yasha and they followed.

“ _A_ cannibal, and, in Kylre’s defence, I don’t think it technically counts as cannibalism. It’s not as if the victim was the same species.”

“If you guys were with the circus, does that mean you can do anything cool?” Jester asked, presumably not overly bothered by what was definitely cannibalism, species be doshed.

“Yasha can scream like a fleft-wauf, the resemblance is uncanny. You ever want to see an entire bar of people shit themselves in the space of three seconds? She’s the one for the job.”

Yasha rolled her eyes, which Fjord could now see were a peculiar shade of pink.

“He can tell fortunes.” She said. “I think that’s more impressive.”

“Ooh, how does that work?” Jester asked.

“I attune myself to the Force and reach into the future of the person I’m reading for.” Molly answered.

“That is not how the Force works.” Caleb muttered.

“Oh but it is.” Molly grinned, argument clearly already prepared. “I would know; my ancestors were a secret sect of the Jedi order, I’ve even got the sabres to prove it.”

He swept his coat back to reveal two cylindrical objects, which might have been lightsabres but which Fjord could not see well enough to tell before Nott shot forward to tug the coat closed again.

“Put those _away_! Are you trying to get us killed?” she hissed, looking about them frantically. “Honestly, you kids these days think just because that di’kut Vessar took out Darth Thordak with one of those things it’s like order sixty six never happened.”

“Folks, could we maybe talk about the particulars when we get back to the ship.” Fjord whispered. “Ain’t exactly a safe conversation topic when we’re out in the open like this; not on a planet this close to the Interior.”

Molly raised his hands in surrender.

“Of course, my apologies.”

They made their way back to the ship without much further trouble, and if Fjord was paying more attention to every Stormtrooper they passed then none of the others remarked on it. What they did remark on, once it came into view, was _The Mistake_.

 _The Mistake_ was a Far*Reach IV PQR, which had been modded to high hell at some point in its younger days. Maker only knew what half the mods had been for; it wasn’t as if any of them worked any more, and nor did most of the guns, hence the name.

“That’s your ship?” Mollymauk asked, eyebrows fast approaching his hairline. “I’ve never seen anything so obviously stolen in my life.”

“We didn’t steal it.” Jester protested.

“Then clearly whoever sold you that thing stole from you.” Caleb shot back. “That thing flies?”

Jester waggled her hand and made an “ehhh” noise.

“Like I said, we encountered a few, uh, technical difficulties on the way down.” Fjord said. “It certainly _used_ to fly.”

“Sweet doshing Maker grant me strength.” Caleb muttered. “You are lucky that I am very familiar with the work of the Loronar Corporation, most mechanics would run screaming from that thing.”

“I still might.” Nott groused.

“I think that this is more of a job for _Frumpkin mein freund_.”

Before Fjord had had the chance to consider what engineering qualifications a lolth-cat might have, the closest door of _The Mistake_ was flung open, revealing Beau and an alarmingly thick haze of smoke. Her usually black robe was soaked with a splatter of some kind of fluid which seemed to be slowly bleaching the fabric. Her face seemed to have been spared from it, although she did sport the indented outline of goggles around her eyes.

“Might want to leave that for a few ticks.” She called out to them between coughs. “I think something in the engine room just blew up.”

“Good thing we bought a mechanic back with us then.” Fjord replied, wrinkling his nose as the smoke reached them. At this, Beau appeared to notice the group amassed behind him.

“What, all four of them?”

“Just the one with the lolth-cat. One's a package deal with the mechanic and the others want a ride out of here and say that they’ll pay.”

Beau squinted at Caleb as she walked up to them, tilting her head slightly to the side. She leaned into his space, sniffing, even though Fjord knew that humans couldn’t actually use smell to determine anything (and even if they were able to she wouldn’t have been able to smell anything over the smell of the fuel on her clothes). Caleb shrank back, looking down at her with what might have been alarm.

“You sure?” she asked.

“The waitress at the cantina said that he fixed her caf machine.” Jester chirped. “Also she sold us this _huge_ bag of mallow powder.”

“Caf machine is very different from an engine.” Beau’s eyes narrowed even further.

Frumpkin bristled and Caleb’s face suddenly arranged itself into something sterner and he leaned forward once more, inches away from Beau’s face.

“You are not wrong, but the fact that I am able to fix engines qualifies me to fix something much simpler. Whether or not I can fix your engine specifically is something that we will not know until I can look at it, but I would advise that if you want to smell of anything apart from tar-fuel for the rest of your life that you stop leering at me and let me get to work.”

Beau looked down at her clothes.

“Ah, dosh! Hey Jessie, did you see any sort of cleaning station around here?”

“I think there might have been some showers at the cantina, do you want me show you?” Jester replied, handing the mallow powder to Mollymauk, who staggered under the weight for a moment before passing the sack to Yasha.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Can someone bring me some spare clothes?”

“I’ll send one of the others along in a little while, you go get cleaned up.” Fjord assured her.

“Wizard, thanks.” Turning to Caleb she asked, “What was your name again?”

“Caleb. Caleb Widogast.”

“Right, Caleb-Caleb, good to know. You’re gonna need these.” She pulled her goggles off her head and handed them to him. “The light in the engine room has been busted almost as long as we’ve had the thing. Break them and I kill you.”

“Understood.” Caleb replied. “Have you not been able to replace the light? It is a simple fix.”

“Fjord is the only one tall enough, and he won’t go in the engine room because he thinks it’s haunted.” Jester answered him as they turned to leave.

Fjord could see the corners of Nott’s eyes crinkle in what was presumably mirth and did his best to quell the fear that was beginning to establish itself in the pit of his stomach.

“I’d have been less inclined to come to that conclusion if somebody hadn’t hidden in the dark and jumped out at me screaming, _Beau_.” He called after their retreating backs. Beau flipped him off over her shoulder and he couldn’t help sighing.

“Right, Yasha, Molly. You want to earn passage out of here? You can start by cleaning up the trail of fuel Beau will have left through the ship.” He turned to Caleb and Nott. “I’ll show you where the engine room is, and if you can fix whatever’s in there then you can take the engineer’s quarters for the time you’re with us. Might have to clear it out a bit but we’ll worry about that when we’ve fixed it.”

Caleb gestured to the ship with his spare hand.

“Lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I know that's not the best cut off point, but I'm trying to figure out whether to make this multi-chapter or a series of shorter works (the latter is looking more likely) and I really wanted to get it up here because if I'd kept going down the route I need to then that would have made this way longer and without a decent cut off point. Also I have every intention of including Caduceus in this, don't worry.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :}
> 
> To those of you reading my other stuff I'm sorry they haven't updated is like a year, that's due to a major case of writer's block at my end (unfortunately as soon as I figure out the exact plot structure for something my brain goes "okay, we've finished writing the thing now" even if that is Very Much Not The Case) and I'm hoping to commence updates on them soon.


End file.
